OMG...

If ever the state of my personal affairs could be put into words... THIS IS IT!:

by Sylvia Plath

I shall never get out of this!
There are two of me now:
This new absolutely white person & the old yellow one,
And the white person is certainly the superior one.
She doesn't need food, she is one of the real saints.
At the beginning I hated her, she had no personality-
She lay in bed with me like a dead body
And I was scared, because she was shaped just the way I was
Only much whiter and unbreakable and with no complaints....
I blamed her for everything, but she didn't answer.
I couldn't understand her stupid behaviour!
When I hit her she held still, like a true pacifist.
Then I realized what she wanted was for me to love her:
She began to warm up, and I saw her advantages....
I use to think we might make a go of it together-
After all, it was a kind of marriage, being so close.
Now I see it must be one or the other of us.
She may be a saint, and I may be ugly & hairy,
But she'll soon find out that that doesn't matter a bit.
I'm collecting my strength; one day I shall manage without her,
And she'll perish with emptiness then, & begin to miss me.